The Tiger and The Raven
by Yeah.I'm.Awful
Summary: Sebastian Moran grew up alone. Alone, but for his books. Those stories by Edgar Allen Poe crept into every corner of his life. But when he meets Jim, will he be able to hold onto his books? Will he be able to hold on to himself? A collaborative effort with davros fan.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**My first collab fic! Fanfiction user davros fan gave me this wonderful premise and has been a continuous source of ideas. **

**Warnings: Eating Disorder trigger warning, swearing, later smutiness**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sebastian Moran. He is a product of the fanverse. Oh,and EA Poe - I don't own him either.**

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Sebastian found his first love when he was a child. The headmaster of his small primary school told the boy that his actions toward other students were troublesome. He worried about Sebastian's future, especially with the violent tendencies he exhibited at random. But to avoid creating a stigma, an unknown well of curiosity surrounding death, he gave young Sebastian a storybook.

The fourteen-year-old boy was rather unimpressed with the gift, but he accepted it. And that night, while his mother screamed and his father grunted profanities, he used it to distract himself. The book was green leather with a shiny gold raven embossed on the cover. Across the bottom glared the words _Poe: Selected Works_. Apparently, according to the preface, this "Edgar Allan Poe" was an American writer with an alternative take on story telling. Sebastian figured it was better than pretending to sleep.

With every story Sebastian read, something happened inside of him. There was a twinge, a pull. Sebastian was having a connection. A connection to a long-dead writer with a twisted mind and sick words. For the first time, when Sebastian snuck away from class, it wasn't to smoke the sweet cigarettes hidden in his socks, but to open his book and stare at the words he knew by heart. He'd imagine those children, the beautiful ones that dared to call him disgusting, with blood flowing free from their pores like Poe had imagined.

This was a new beginning for Sebastian. For two years the teenager collected books from different libraries, stockpiling a massive heap of Poe in his closet, hidden away from the horrible things that transpired in his home.

One night, under his bed covers and with _Tales of the Folio Club_ clutched in his hands, Sebastian had an idea. _Metzengerstein. _It was so clear. He stepped cautiously from his bunk and stood by his door, listening for signs of consciousness from his parents' bedroom.

When he was sure the coast was clear, Sebastian went quietly into the kitchen. He fumbled for the drawer next to the stove and managed to grasp his prize. He left the kitchen quickly and stood outside of his mother and father's door. When he pressed his ear to barricade, he could hear his father's snores. He looked at what he had grabbed from the kitchen. The box said the matches were durable. An advertisement plastered across the side proudly proclaimed, "_It takes more than a stiff wind to take out Light-House matches!_"

Sebastian took three red-tipped sticks from the box and held them together. He struck them against the box and watched fire spring from nothing. The flames danced together and Sebastian stared at them for a moment, entranced. The yellow light burned his eyes and there was something poetic in that.

When the flames reached dangerously close to his hands, Sebastian opened the door slightly, stuck his hand in, and let the matches fall to the floor. The carpet in the room was cheap. The liquor spilled on it night after night was cheap. The bedsheets that trailed on the floor, completing the circuit from match to man were cheap.

But the screams; the screams were priceless.

XxX

A police report would later say that – considering the large amount of ashtrays and cigarette butt-covered floors discovered in the home – the fire was accidental. It was localized to the master bedroom and was most likely caused by a lit cigarette that had been dropped, igniting the room's carpet. A social worker would note that the child of the house was suffering from shock, as he did not seem to be able to stop the seemingly endless bout of sobbing that plagued him throughout his time with her. Then, the unusually distraught boy would be transferred to his closest living relatives, cousins in America. The flight log from his trip would record two checked bags – one with a meager amount of clothing and the other filled with books. And Sebastian, arriving in the United States would smile at his new life.

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**I'd love feedback to show the fruits of my team participation! And expect another installment soon. I'm writing it PDQ :-) **

**Love to all my loyal readers/smut friends who keep writing me wonderful presents,**

**Mr. Awful**


	2. Chapter 2: The Tell-Tale Cake

**At long last, the newest installment.**

**I am but a humble writer, and do not own Sebastian Moran.**

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The Tell-Tale Cake

"Happy birthday, dear Sharon. Happy birthday to you!"

The singing stopped and the little conference room was filled with polite applause. Sebastian stood silently near the corner watching his coworkers mingle, a glass of woefully non-alcoholic champagne in his hand. He was allowing himself to relax, his mind to wander when he was rudely intruded upon.

"Hey hey hey! Bashing 'Bastian! What's up, buddy?" A little man with a green tie and two slices of cake stood in front of Sebastian.

Sebastian considered how easily this man could die. "Hello, Brad. Are you enjoying the party?"

"Sure am, man. Even brought you a slice of ice cream cake. Eat up!"

Sebastian accepted the plate from his coworker with a smile and proceeded to glare at the dessert. He liked cake. His parents never gave him cake on his birthday, but his cousins did. His cousins threw him big birthday parties with fantastic cakes.

Sebastian looked up from the plate and felt his chest clench suddenly. There was a cold sweat on his back. Everyone in the room was looking at him.

No, they weren't. They were looking at Sharon, that snooty bitch. Sebastian saw through her, right to the vain core. He tried to take a bite of the cake he was holding, but he had trouble swallowing.

Brad noticed his difficulties. "Hey, man. You okay?"

Sebastian nodded, but breathing was getting difficult. Through a pastry-coated airway, he managed to choke out "bathroom" before tossing both plastic glass and paper plate in the trash and running out.

He sprinted to the one-stall bathroom and locked the door. The edges of his vision were going black. He fumbled with his shirt, trying desperately to wrench it over his head. The mirror above the sink stared accusingly at his shirtless form. He examined his body's reflection, running his hands across his skin, admiring the raven inked on his back.

The flesh pressing into his palms felt firm. Years of toning created a body like marble. But Sebastian still saw flab in the mirror. Room for improvement. Damnation for his decadent decisions. It was that fucking cake. When he'd worked so hard to be beautiful, why would he sacrifice that for cake?

Sebastian's breathing was reaching a frenzied pitch. He hung his head over the sink to get a closer look at the mirror. His own dark eyes stared at him with disgust. His mouth was hanging open and he could see the faint trace of the caps on his teeth covering the jagged wreck he used to have.

His heart rate finally slowed and he finished his body check. He found no yield in his skin.

But there could have been, he reminded himself. He should never be so careless with high-fat foods.

Sebastian retrieved his shirt from the floor, thankful that Casual Friday had permitted him a t-shirt instead of his usual button-up. He put it back on, masking his perfect body, and headed back to the party.

Outside of the bathroom door, Brad was waiting with a worried expression. As soon as Sebastian appeared, Brad leapt into his personal space.

"Hey, Baz, you scared me there."

Sebastian put on a sickly smile. "I'm sorry. I just felt queasy, but I'm okay. I think I'm just gonna head home."

"Okay, man," Brad chirped. "Take it easy."

"You too," Sebastian smiled.

By the time Sebastian had begun driving home, his panic attack had just about subsided. He reassured himself that he would hop on the gym equipment as soon as he got home. The town he lived in was a stone's throw from his office in Baltimore, Maryland. He once dreamed of living in the city itself, but there are certain amenities a crowded city cannot afford.

With only a few miles left to his house, Sebastian saw police lights flashing on the road ahead. As he neared the area of contention, he could see the issue. A downed telephone pole lay across the road, black wires spilling onto the asphalt. Police cars flanked it on either side. Sebastian idled his car as close to the scene as he dared and let it idle.

An officer in blue stepped out of his car and approached Sebastian's Honda. Sebastian rolled down the window to let the cop talk to him.

"Sorry, sir," the pudgy-faced man said. "It'll be a little bit. We just gotta let the electricity guys turn off the power in this area before we touch anything."

Sebastian smiled and thanked him. Watching the man waddle his way back to his car, Sebastian felt a seeping icy grip around his midsection. His abs clenched and his head started pounding. The car felt suddenly too small, and Sebastian felt himself running out of air. The air he could get was too hot. With rising horror, he realized the car was not small, but he was large. Larger than he had been as a child. His shirt was stretching tight across his chest and stomach. He could taste the ghostly trace of cheap cake in his throat. He closed his eyes and begged his body to stop growing, to save the muscles he'd worked so hard to build. His prayers were greeted with his own laugh, twisted and echoing in his head.

"_Stop what?_" the laughing conscience said. "_Stop your mistakes? Stop what?_"

Sebastian's eyes welled. _Please, _he thought. _Please, let me keep this body. Please, I've worked so hard. My face, my abs, my arms, and my chest – please._

The laughter raged louder. "_If you want it so badly, then you wouldn't waste yourself on pointless desserts. What is a mouthful of cake to lifetime of beauty?_"

_You're right, _Sebastian pleaded to himself. _I promise. I was already going to work it off. Please. Please. Don't let me grow anymore. I don't want to be big again._

The laughter didn't stop, but the voice cut away. Sebastian was suddenly left with his growing flesh. He jabbed the seatbelt release button like it was an ejector switch. His useless fingers scrabbled at the door handle and finally managed to grip it. The door flew open and Sebastian all but tumbled out of the vehicle and onto the road.

The chubby policeman got out of his car again and approached the heaving man cautiously. "Sir? Are you feeling alright?"

Sebastian nodded but his body was still swelling. He could feel rolls of skin rippling across him. Disgusting, fatty rolls.

His stomach was still distending and a sharp pain kicked in. With darkening vision and little awareness, Sebastian stumbled to a nearby lawn, vomited, and lost consciousness.

Sebastian blinked the world into focus. _That's odd, _he thought. _The sky is blue._

While he was sitting up, a hand clamped on his shoulder. He turned to see another police officer crouching next to him. The cop was in his mid forties and something about him gave Sebastian the distinct impression that someone in the world called him "honey" and another two called him "dad."

"You okay there, kid?" he asked. If there was worry in his voice, it wasn't showing on his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, I just," Sebastian considered possible lies. "I think I have food poisoning. There was this cake at a party at my office–"

"Anything else at the party?" the cop asked warily.

Everything clicked. Sebastian saw what had just happened as the police did. "Do you mean alcohol, sir?" came the voice of an innocent angel. "No way. I knew I had to drive home. If it would make you feel more comfortable, I'd be glad to take a breath test."

The officer eyed him carefully. "No, it's alright. While you were out, we got the pole cleared. Drive safe."

As the officer sauntered back to his car, Sebastian picked himself off the ground. He surreptitiously brought his hands across his chest, downs his front, to his thighs. Firm, solid, no leeway. He was flawless as ever.

"_But you are not forgiven for the cake,"_ his voice reminded him. "_Just because it's in somebody's front yard now, doesn't mean it couldn't have ended up in your body._"

Sebastian agreed with his inner voice, hopped into his car, and sped away.

Sebastian was grateful to pull into his driveway. He felt much more cool and calm than he had felt leaving work. His home was something of a sanctuary where his mask of conformity slipped off.

He opened his front door and put his car keys on a hook by the entrance. A black cat responded to the soft jingle by emerging from Sebastian's bedroom to greet him.

"Hello, Eddie," he remarked to the sleek creature. The cat yawned with a level of disinterest that only cats can summon.

Sebastian smiled at his unaffectionate pet and stalked off to his special room.

At one point, the room was intended to serve as a guest room. However, Sebastian found that he got much more use out of the space by converting it to a home gym.

Once in the room, Sebastian shed his clothing and hung it carefully on a clothing rack. He never understood the point in clothed exercise. If the goal was to create a body to be proud of, why cover yourself?

With his clothing banished, Sebastian heard a twisted mockery of his own voice ringing in his ears.

"_Why bother?_" it questioned.

Sebastian refused to acknowledge it.

"_Why bother trying? Your body doesn't matter when you're as disgusting as you are._"

Sebastian continued ignoring the taunts. He stepped on to a device of his own design. The machine mimicked the effects of weight lifting and extreme cardio, creating a dumbbell-elliptical hybrid that allowed him to maintain healthy strength while bringing a great appearance. He grabbed one of the triangle grips that worked his arms and planted his feet on the hydraulic steps.

"_That's right,_" the voice cooed. "_Work and work some more. Forget your terrible face. Nobody likes an ugly boy._"

"I'm not ugly!" Sebastian shouted to the empty room.

"_No,_" the voice conceded with a quiet chuckle. "_I guess your face is okay now._" The voice suddenly began getting darker. "_But the acne can always come back. Your teeth can break. Your nose can go crooked. You hair can get thin and gray. And you can't keep your precious abs forever. Your body's just a temporary thing._"

Sebastian pumped his legs faster.

"_What if you get in a car crash?_" Somehow it was laughing and whispering darkly and shouting with frenzy all at once. "_What if you have an accident and you can't move? And your stomach goes fat and your legs go fat and your face swells up like a bee sting and you're stuck right back where you fucking started_ –"

"No!" Sebastian shouted, kicking up his movement and adding more tension to the arm straps. Mocking laughter filled his head and sweat rolled down his back over hills of stressed muscle. The laughter raged and his breathing quickened.

He decided then that someone would have to die that night.

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**Ah, my poor dear Sebastian.**

**I've been working hard with davros fan to get this thing written, and I think it's going well. Thanks to my readers who thought I was dead and took it upon themselves to Private Message me constantly until I was revived.**

**I'll see you all quite soon!**

**Xoxo Mister Awful (and davros fan)**


	3. Chapter 3: The Facts in the Case

**An update after a long hiatus! I hope that this pleases my loyal readers.**

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The Facts in the Case of S. Moran

Sebastian strolled into the bar with a gray jacket shrugged over his shoulders. With years of stealth training supporting him, he knew that to pull up his hood would just attract more attention to himself. His keen eyes scanned the room. He didn't go into a place blind; he had a type.

He wanted a youngish girl. Twenty-something. Tonight, she should be blonde. She had to be alone. Her purse had to be small. She had to be drunk, or willing to become so.

Some of these attributes, like the purse – a girl with a big purse was more likely to greet an attacker with pepper spray – were reasonable and defendable necessities. Most were aesthetic. He liked the beautiful girls. He liked to know he was taking something loved from the world.

He looked around, but before he could find a target, he was marked as one.

"Hey, Baz!"

_ No, _Sebastian thought. _Not now!_

He turned around with a confused smile (though, really, he knew what to expect) and was greeted with little Brad-from-the-office brandishing a bottle of lager.

"Hi, Brad," Sebastian doted, attempting to convey disinterest.

"Oh man. You weren't really sick at the party, huh? Just wanted to get home early, am I right? I bet I guy like you's got something really special at home!"

Sebastian smiled warmly. And he meant it. Hating someone does not make their praises any less valuable. He reasoned that the best course of action would be to create a small conversation. "Ha, yeah. What about you, Brad?"

Brad looked surprised. "Me? Well I have the wife but, Jesus, Baz, I'd eat my shoe if it lasts more than a year."

This statement seemed odd. The colloquium of it was a little overwhelming for Sebastian. He did the best he could to form a coherent response. "Things are not going well?"

Brad seemed almost ashamed. "Nah, man. I don't want to bring you down. You want me to get you a beer or something?"

"Thank you, but I don't drink."

Brad raised an eyebrow. "You don't drink? What are you doing in a bar?"

Sebastian had years of quick thinking on his side. He was a genius at creating back stories and covers. Unfortunately, he was not prepared for the simple question. He floundered for a moment.

"Ah, I get it," Brad stage whispered with a wink. "Bashing 'Bastian wants a little fun without the ball and chain finding out. I got you, bro. No worries."

"_Kill him. Now._"

"No," Sebastian said sternly. "I am not currently in a relationship. Though I was hoping to, ah, find some fun tonight I guess."

"Alright, no harm," Brad said, conceding his mistake. "But, dude. You gotta wind down a little. You're gonna scare people away, y'know?"

Sebastian clenched his teeth and smiled. "Yes. Thanks, Brad. Actually, tonight isn't my night, I think. I have work to do at home. And I really was ill earlier. I'm just going to leave now."

"But, buddy! You just got here!"

"I'm calling it a night." Sebastian prepared himself for the sewage that was about to pour from him. "Catch you later, B."

Brad's face lit up and he raised his bottle in Sebastian's direction.

Sebastian walked back to his car in the parking lot, climbed in, and shut the door. Immediately, a growl slipped from his throat.

"_Tonight was meant to be a good one,_" his inner voice taunted. "_You've failed. You will always failed. You are worth nothing and you cannot redeem your mistakes._"

This only spurred Sebastian's anger. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were bleached white.

Sebastian pulled out of the parking lot with terrible mutterings of his incompetence ringing in his head. He stopped politely enough at a stop sign, but he could feel that panic and rage of a cornered animal boiling in his gut. _I need to get home,_ he thought.

As he was about to speed off, a tap came at his door. From the dark outside, he could see nothing, but the tapping continued. He rolled down the window warily and a raven-haired girl poked her head through.

"Hey man," she rasped. "Can I catch a ride?"

Sebastian stared uncertainly at the gift. "Where do you live?"

"Floyd Street?"

Entirely the opposite direction from Sebastian's home. "Yeah, I'm right by there. Hop in."

The girl's face lit up. Sebastian guessed she was in her early twenties. Appropriately within his age range. She didn't have a bag on her, and the only reason he wanted her drunk was to get her into his car. Well that was rather a moot point now. He would just have to do something about that dark hair.

When she climbed into the car, Sebastian considered his good fortune. He peeled away from the stop sign. He felt her eyes staring at his face. He looked over to her with a polite and knowing smile. She looked away a little.

"Everything alright?" Sebastian asked, eyes returning to the road, smile lingering.

"Yeah. Yeah, totally. Just, what's a guy like you doing skulking around near a dive like that? You don't smell like booze."

Sebastian snorted a chuckle. "I could ask you the same thing. But, honestly?"

She perked up a little.

Sebastian gave a happy but begrudging sigh. "My kids," he said.

The girl looked interested and a little confused.

Sebastian continued. "I have twins. They're in their Terrible Twos." He laughed a little with a nostalgic gaze out of the windshield. "My wife agreed to take them for the night so I could go relax at the bar. But I didn't want to stay." He shook his head. "I miss 'em. Guess I've gone soft." He dazed a little and then snapped back to sharpness and laughed again. "Here I am, treating you like an old drinking buddy when I don't even know you."

"_A brilliant performance."_

"Virginia," the girl smiled. "Sorry, should have introduced myself earlier."

"Virginia?" Sebastian. The universe was certainly rewarding him for something tonight. "Poe's wife was named Virginia," he noted aloud.

"Like Edgar Allen?" Virginia asked. "Wasn't she his, like, teenage cousin? What a creep, right?"

Sebastian swerved the car for a moment. "_Kill her now. What does she know? Nothing. Make her dead._"

"I guess," Sebastian agreed through clenched teeth.

"So, anyway," Virginia started. "I didn't get your name, Mr. Two-Kids Good-Samaritan."

"It's Brad," the liar said with a face that bordered on predatory.

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**Well, that's it for this chapter. I hope you are all having a wonderful summer, and I wish you the best. User davros fan and I are still working hard :)**

**Until next post,**

**Mr. Awful and davros fan**


	4. Chapter 4: Virginia

**Look, guys! An upload that you didn't have to wait a month/year for!**

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Virginia

Sebastian pulled into Virginia's driveway and put the car in park. "Your stop, m'lady," he said.

"Thanks," Virginia smiled. She opened her door and began to step out before turning back to Sebastian. "Do you want to come in, Brad?"

Sebastian smiled. "I should really get home."

"Come on," she pleaded. "I'm here alone. My coshare is out having fun somewhere. What if some freak breaks in?"

"In this neighborhood?" he mused.

"Alright, family man." She stepped out of the car and peeked her head back through the door. "Thanks again. Maybe we'll run into each other some time soon?"

"Maybe."

Virginia shut the car door and sauntered to her house. She opened her front door (without unlocking it, Sebastian noted) and disappeared inside.

Suddenly Sebastian's head was filled by a raging scream. "_You had her!_" the voice cried. "_You impotent idiot!_" Sebastian clamped his hands uselessly over his ears. "_You lost her!_"

"I didn't lose her," he growled through gritted teeth. "I want her scared."

The voice paused and then laughed its approval. "_Your sadism is your only redeeming quality._"

Sebastian bit back his retort to no one and put the car into reverse. He parked it a block from Virginia's house.

XXX

Virginia had resolved herself to a boring existence. Carly was out for the night, so the house was hers. She thought it was too bad that Brad didn't want to come in. She could use some company.

Plus he was a hot hot hottie.

_No, no. _She told herself. _He's a dad. That's off limits, girl._

She went to the kitchen to make dinner. Frozen food or frozen food. Such a romantic life she lived.

She settled on a single serve pizza, tore off the wrappings, and tossed it into the toaster oven. It would take a little longer to cook than it was meant to because she was too lazy to let the toaster oven preheat, but she was in no hurry. Taking off her shoes, Virginia flopped onto her couch for some sweet TV time.

As she felt around the sofa cushions for the evasive remote, Sebastian was jimmying the front door open. While her fingers grasped the remote, his grasped the door knob. When she settled on a soap opera she'd never seen, he settled behind her. And once her face was covered with a sickly-sweet cloth, he had her.

XXX

Sebastian paced around the bed waiting for Virginia to regain consciousness.

"_You gave her too much_," his inner voice berated.

"I didn't," Sebastian responded, against better reasoning.

"_You did_," the voice insisted. ''_You did and now she wont wake up and how anti-climactic would that be_?'

"It's fine" Sebastian's anger was growing. "I _have_ done this before." The voice went silent. Sebastian smiled at his small victory.

The waiting man's pacing continued until Virginia's bleary eyes opened. She blinked a few times, but Sebastian figured her situation hadn't hit her yet.

He moved in close and shook her shoulders."Virginia!" he hissed.

The girl opened her eyes wide and Sebastian could see her focusing in. "Where – Brad? " she stuttered.

Sebastian nodded. "How do you feel?"

"What happened?"

She started to bring her hand up to her face but the ropes stopped her. That wonderful look of stupid confusion followed by an open-eyed stare of terror was one of Sebastian's pleasures in life.

"Brad, what the hell is going on?" There was a heightened and angry awareness in her face now.

Sebastian leaned in closer to her. "I'm about to kill you," he informed softly.

"Bullshit," she spat. Denial. How cute.

"No, really," Sebastian insisted, wide-eyed and innocent. "Why would I lie to someone on their deathbed?"

She sputtered for words while Sebastian turned to his leather doctor's bag that he had set on the girl's dresser and began pulling for tools. He spun quickly to her and managed to wedge a ball-gag between her teeth. "You know," he noted, admiring her new look, "You probably would have been better off screaming earlier. I noticed neighbors. I bet they would have come running, pretty girl like you screaming." He grinned at her terrified eyes."It's a little late now, I should think."

Virginia started to tear. "Hm," Sebastian noted with disdain. "Look at you, all snotty and disgusting. It's undignified." He reached for the pliers he had set on the dresser next to the bag. "How familiar are you with _Berenice_?"

He stared at her, a little amused, as she made little noises behind the gag. "_Look, she's saying it's her favorite. Fucking get on with it!_"

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "It's Poe," he informed her. "The man whom you find to be a 'creep.' It's a short story, but still excellent. I don't know what I'm saying. They're all excellent."

"_Jesus fucking Hell. You're not trying to bore her to death._"

"Hey, you shut the fuck up while I'm telling a story!" Sebastian shouted. Virginia looked shocked on top of afraid. "Anyway, sweet Virginia, it is a story about a man with monomania; an affliction that causes one to think obsessively about a certain object." Sebastian studied the pliers with a hungry glare. All for show. Very effective. "In his case, the objects were his cousin's teeth." Sebastian's gaze returned to the girls face. "He couldn't stop thinking about them, you see. And when she died, the obsession didn't end. Until one night, he awoke to find himself covered in dirt, in his bed, with a little box beside him. And when he discovers that his cousin's tomb has been desecrated – would you like to guess what's in the box, Virginia?"

"_Yeah, 'cause this is a fucking game show now. Just tell her what she's won!_"

Sebastian grabbed the girl's throat with one hand and her fear went to involuntary panic. With the other hand, he brought the pliers next to her head. His deft fingers pulled out the gag quickly. She tried to scream, but no noise could squeak past the hold he had on her throat. Nor could breath, so he had to be quick. He wanted her alive. He brought the pliers to her mouth.

"What do you think I'm going to put in my box, Virginia?"

XXX

Sebastian wiped off the pliers and stashed them, and the rattling, little tin, in his bag. He closed up his kit and glanced back to Virginia spread out on the bed. The bruises around her neck wouldn't set in for a little bit so she looked like she was simply staring at the ceiling.

Except for the bloody trickles pouring from her mouth and the terror etched across her face. He would have to smuggle her out of the house without the neighbors seeing, but that had never been a problem before. People in the suburbs generally minded their own business.

Sebastian was cutting the ties around the corpse's wrists when a strange smell began entering the room. It was not entirely unpleasant, and very familiar. Garlic, grease, the spices of delicious food. A pizza, forgotten in a toaster oven, was burning and releasing its acrid smoke. As soon as Sebastian could identify the scent, his panic set in.

His heart pounded and his only senses were the sound of blood rushing in his ears and that carb-filled smoke entering his lungs.

"_Get out,_" the voice warned. "_Just being here is bad enough. Don't stay. The smoke is bad. It's bad._"

Sebastian hadn't eaten anything that wasn't purged out of him all day. The smell was so enticing. The deafening rushing was so loud. His vision was gone. He felt nothing but the urge to fall. And that was bad. And this was bad. So he grabbed his bag. And Sebastian left the house. And the smoke was everywhere. And Virginia would have to lie in that. And his breathing was rushed. But his car was dark. He couldn't drive. The road was bad. The dark was bad. Sebastian slumped. The voice screamed. The world was black. And it was bad.

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**So, I've been basing chapter titles off Poe stories. This chapter is just meant to represent the many stories that Poe named after women, like _Berenice_.**

**Until next time. **

**XoXo Mr Awful and davros fan.**


	5. Chapter 5: Murder in the Dark Room

**Welcome. Enjoy the show.**

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Murder in the Dark Room

Sebastian awoke to a harsh cry. He snapped up in his seat, still able to feel the imprint that the steering wheel left on his cheek. He looked out the windshield, expecting to see police surrounding the house of a freshly murdered girl, but was greeted by his own front door in early daylight. At some point, he had driven home without being fully conscious. The cry came again.

Sebastian turned cautiously to his passenger seat. There was a magnificently large raven perched in the chair, glaring him down. He looked at the bird with confusion. The creature opened its beak as if to cry out again, but the sound that escaped it was Sebastian's own twisted voice, coming like sound from a failing gramophone.

"_You're getting sloppy,_" it noted.

"I'm sorry."

"_Do you have a plan? I'm sure the girl has been found by now._"

"I'm not sure what I should do. This has never happened before."

"_No shit. I've never let it happen. But you're too stupid to keep everything together. We both know that._"

_There isn't a 'both,' _Sebastian thought angrily.

The raven laughed with a cruel caw. "_Isn't there?_" It seemed then to melt, liquid shadows seeping away from vision, and Sebastian was left alone in the car.

He thought about Virginia and how badly he'd needed to kill her. And how that greasy smoke had felt in his lungs; that violation of himself that had forced him from his clean-up.

With the smoke now in his mind, Sebastian wondered when the last time he had eaten something and kept it down had been. Two days? The estimate seemed right. In any case, it was enough time to get him wishing for food.

Sebastian was met at his front door by his cat.

"Eddie," the man acknowledged.

Eddie looked back with reserved understanding.

"I suppose you would like some food as well." The cat seemed to give a flick of agreement. Sebastian smiled without much conviction. He grabbed a can of catfood, wrenched it open, and was about to start slopping it into Eddie's metal dish – under careful supervision of the prissy animal – when he was distracted by a noise. It was a soft shuffling from his bedroom. A persistent, audible movement.

Sebastian wasn't crazy. Really, though; he wasn't. And because he wasn't crazy, that sound didn't remind him of the plastic grinding of sleek feathers. And because he was a sane and rational man it didn't seem like there was a giant looming raven brooding in his bedroom. There couldn't be, because Sebastian wasn't crazy.

Even so, it was definitely worth investigating. Eddie disagreed, and made this opinion known loudly as soon as Sebastian set the still-full can of food down. The man looked as his pet with annoyance but continued his cautious inquiry. He edged toward his room, looking around for signs of an intruder. Footprints, anything misplaced – these things would be enough to prove that Sebastian was not alone. But he saw nothing and reached his door still unsure of what the tense, coarse shifting noise was. It has ceased but the image of an inky bird was still pulling at Sebastian's mind. He opened the door quickly, ready to punish himself for paranoid stupidity. His heart stopped as the room appeared, dark though it was.

The raven was here. The raven had always been here.

It was huge and blacker than the most starless void. As Sebastian walked into the room it jeered at him silently. All Sebastian could really see of the creature was the glint of light on its merciless beak. But it wasn't light on a beak. Because, Sebastian knew, this wasn't a raven at all. And if this wasn't the raven, it must be a man. And if that sinister glow isn't from a bill, then it must –

Sebastian felt the biting shock of this trespasser's taser before he fell, encased by the invisible onyx feathers that swirled perpetually in his head.

xXx

Sebastian awoke again. This time there was no familiar raven. He was not alone in his car, lungs still reeking of greasy smoke. He was in a chair. A hard chair. The sort of chair a pretentious man would keep in his home and call "art" to avoid the fact that it was wholly uncomfortable.

The room was incredibly (though not totally) dark and this chair was all he could see beyond his own body. But he could see his body. All of his body. His clothing seemed to have fled from the shock.

Sebastian's muscled arms had been led behind the back of the chair to make the acquaintance of a zip tie. He tugged them experimentally and was a little more than surprised that his shoulders had been dislocated. It was this surprise that created a howl from somewhere deep in his throat. He was no newcomer to pain, but this pain was incorrect. It was violating and confusing and would not be stood for. Or sat for, considering that the tie's friends had introduced themselves to Sebastian's ankles and the chair's legs.

Sebastian examined his surroundings, still puffing from the pain in his shoulders. He could see nothing. The room smelled like air, a useless discovery. He could feel – well, he wasn't very interested in paying close attention to his nerve endings at the moment. He listened to the room. He could hear a loud whirring. Like a machine.

There was suddenly a shaft of light in the ceiling as a golden device began its descent. Sebastian watched it with cautious curiosity. It seemed to be a pole about two meters in length feeding in from the ceiling. It stopped just above Sebastian's head, with maybe half a meter between them. With horror he noticed the end of the pole was unfolding and expanding until a wide, shimmering blade appeared. With a terrible grinding sound the newly extended pendulum began to swing out in front of Sebastian and disappeared briefly into the darkness before soaring quickly back toward the restrained man and hurtling off behind him.

It made several of these passes while Sebastian sat sweating and terrified beneath it before he noticed that it had dropped slightly. No longer was there such a significant gap between his hair and the blade's edge. In only a few minutes, the blade would be close enough to begin brushing his scalp. He could duck, maybe, but the blade would surely continue its descent.

On top of the shining, swinging mechanism imposing itself upon Sebastian, the temperature in the room was quickly becoming unbearable. At first it had seemed average – or rather, chilly due to the lack of clothing – but it was heating up quickly. And it seemed smaller somehow. But it didn't just seem smaller. It was visibly smaller. Sebastian could now see the walls around him, as they had entered the domain of the light from the ceiling. And the unnerving heat was coming from those walls. Sebastian understood that his skin would burn as soon as he touched them. So his options seemed to become increasingly limited as that malicious blade bore down and those fiery walls moved in.

As these fates came ever closer, Sebastian heard an awful sound; the last sound he would ever hear, apparently. It was the cackle. The cackle of the worst parts of him wishing him a happy demise. The final cruelties of an angry psyche. It was not the raven. It was himself and there was nothing to do, no way to escape.

And so he finally gave in and stopped arguing with that voice telling him to laugh. He laughed. He laughed and it sounded wrong. It sounded twisted and broken and entirely incorrect. While he laughed he tasted something familiar. Cake. That fucking cake. That fucking goddamn cake that scared him and made him need to kill with such an urge that he had finally slipped up and, to be sure, was the cause of his imprisonment. But as his anger rose the flavor became clearer. It wasn't cake. That taste with the laughter was blood, coppery and heavy. It flowed from his nose and down his face. His broken nose.

The room was not tightening. The blade had vanished to the recesses of Sebastian's nightmares. But the chair in the midst of darkness was real. And so was the broken nose. The lights were aggravated into turning on suddenly and Sebastian attempted to let his eyes adjust. He felt more exposed in the light. Every inch of him was bared in an awful institutional way. And then another punch came. Sebastian roared as the fist mashed against his already-mangled nose.

"Oh, Tiger. Is the bad man hurting you?"

Sebastian focused his pained eyes to the two men in the room with him. One tall one who looked like a professional boxer and a significantly shorter man in a sharp suit positioned behind the muscle. The boxer had his fist cocked and the blood stained on his knuckles made Sebastian's temper boil.

The smaller man was smiling sadistically at the captive. It was from his mouth that the taunt had come. From the accent he was English. Or Irish. Or Scottish. Or some fucking thing. Some voice that reminded Sebastian of that awful place which had burned completely years ago.

"It's okay," the man mocked again. "I'll make him stop."

In seconds, this well-dressed sadist pulled a gun from his jacket and placed a bullet in the head of the boxer. The gunshot was deafening and Sebastian's ears rang. This torture was confusing. He wasn't sure what to think. He wished only to be released and, perhaps, given clothing.

The man stepped closer to Sebastian, looking contemptuously at the fresh corpse, and held out a hand as if Sebastian could shake if he wanted to. "Hello," he said cordially. This seemed suddenly to be routine procedure. "My name is Jim Moriarty and it looks as though I'll be needing a new employee."

* * *

**At last! Welcome to the show, Jimmy. And welcome back readers! Be sure to tell davros fan and myself how much you love the story!**

**Until we meet again,**

**Mr. Awful **


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